Inside the glass cage, chaotic time was fully isolated, endlessly washing over the massive seashell within, subjecting it to repeated cycles of destruction and rebirth.
Sylas had engraved time-isolation runes onto the glass cage itself, preventing the power of time from erupting outward. Beyond the cage, a secondary alchemical formation provided another layer of restraint, stabilizing the temporal turbulence sealed within.
Sylas continuously regulated the flow of magic, maintaining the delicate balance that allowed time to function inside the confined space.
Time truly was the most complex and profound form of magic.
Sylas could feel his magical energy draining at an alarming rate. Even with his current level of existence, he could barely activate a fraction of time's power, just enough to stabilize it within the narrow confines of the glass cage.
This was only possible because Sylas had already transcended ordinary sorcerers. If it were anyone else, maintaining a continuous Time Reversal Curse would require at least ten elite time specialists, working in perfect coordination, merely to avoid catastrophe.
Sylas observed the glass cage quietly.
The sand within was continuously scoured by time itself.
He waited.
Only when the grains were completely permeated, when they had truly transformed into time sand, would the process be complete.
This would take several months.
During this long waiting period, Sylas was far from idle.
While maintaining the time flow, he began preparing the vessel that would carry the time sand.
The container needed to withstand time's corrosion, to remain unchanged even as centuries passed through it.
Among all materials, gold was the ideal choice.
Unlike silver or mithril, gold possessed a near-immortal stability. It neither rusted nor decayed, even under relentless temporal erosion.
Sylas enlisted Gandalf's assistance and used Arnór's sacred fire to melt vast quantities of gold. Through repeated refinement, he extracted only its purest essence.
From this essence, he forged several exquisite circular devices, each resembling a pocket watch.
Every device was engraved with precise temporal markings. Two interlocking golden rings surrounded a hollow central disk, within which rested a miniature hourglass.
Countless microscopic runes were etched across their surfaces, and a long golden chain linked each Time-Turner into a complete magical instrument.
Six months passed.
In Valinor, time itself felt meaningless. There were no seasons, no decay, everything existed in a state of eternal stillness. To its inhabitants, half a year felt no different from a single breath.
Inside the time chamber, Sylas finally lowered his staff and ended the time-washing process.
Within the glass cage, the seashell remained pristine, unchanged, unmarred.
But the sand within had undergone a fundamental transformation.
Each grain now emitted a faint blue glow, subtly infused with temporal authority. Within those microscopic particles lay fragments of time's mysteries.
Even so, Sylas dared not relax.
In his eyes, these grains were temporal explosives.
A single mistake could cause the time sand to erupt, unleashing temporal chaos. If the entire bowl were to detonate, it could engulf all of Swan Harbor, forcing those within to age instantly, regress into childhood, or be flung into fractured timelines, trapped forever in loops of past and future.
This was why Sylas had converted the entire workspace into a time chamber and layered it with alchemical defenses.
Even then, absolute safety was impossible.
With extreme care, Sylas gently scattered the bowl of time sand into the air.
The grains floated weightlessly, lighter than feathers, suspended silently, as though time itself held them aloft.
In theory, this quantity of sand was sufficient to create dozens of Time-Turners.
But Sylas was not satisfied.
Only the purest time sand could ensure precise temporal control. Inferior grains could cause dangerous anomalies, rewinds that overshot or fell short, or brief moments where the user became trapped in temporal lag.
A flawed Time-Turner might attempt to rewind three hours, only to fail midway, leaving its wielder stranded between moments.
More dangerously, it can trigger time-lapse anomalies. At best, the user may be caught in temporal turbulence, thrown into the past or future, trapped within a cyclical time loop. In severe cases, everything involved may be directly erased by time itself, as though it had never existed in the world at all.
Because of this, Sylas proceeded with extreme caution.
He meticulously examined every single grain of time sand, selecting only the purest and most stable particles. The process was unbearably tedious. Each grain had to be individually verified for flaws, requiring absolute concentration and precision.
A single bowl of time sand contained several million grains.
Sylas spent an entire month performing this selection.
Only thanks to his formidable mental strength was such a task even possible. From millions of grains, he ultimately refined just over sixty thousand grains of pure time sand.
This amount was sufficient to create three complete Time-Turners, with a small surplus remaining.
Each grain of time sand corresponded to one second.
A standard Time-Turner hourglass could hold 18,000 grains, granting the ability to rewind time by five hours.
Sylas carefully loaded the refined time sand into three hourglass cores, performing the final sealing process himself.
Once sealed, the Time-Turners seemed to gain an even more mysterious presence. The grains within emitted a faint blue glow, the power of time flowing silently inside, contained, restrained, and perfectly balanced.
Only after completing this step did Sylas turn his attention to the remaining time sand.
He stored the surplus several thousand grains of pure time sand in a small hourglass-shaped glass container, engraving stabilizing runes across its surface to prevent any temporal leakage.
As for the remaining low-grade time sand, these grains were unsuitable for Time-Turner construction. However, Sylas did not discard them.
Instead, an idea took shape.
Time Bombs
Sylas continued working in seclusion.
Six months later, ten fist-sized, semi-transparent glass spheres lay arranged before him.
Their outer shells were etched with silver runes, while inside each sphere floated countless pale-blue grains of sand, shimmering like distant stars, beautiful, mesmerizing, and deeply unsettling.
These were alchemical constructs forged from low-grade time sand.
Time bombs.
They were breathtaking in appearance, but lethally dangerous.
Once thrown, a single sphere could detonate either upon impact or moments before, plunging an area with a radius of over one thousand meters into uncontrollable temporal chaos.
Within that zone, time could fracture. Objects might age into dust, regress into infancy, or be torn apart by conflicting timelines. Entire regions could be trapped in looping moments, or erased outright.
Sylas stored these time bombs away carefully.
They were not weapons to be used lightly.
They were his final resort, reserved for enemies so overwhelming that no other option remained.
...
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